


Someone To Carry Me

by lost_in_a_sea_of_fandoms



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Crying, Depressed Peter Parker, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 10:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_in_a_sea_of_fandoms/pseuds/lost_in_a_sea_of_fandoms
Summary: "When you can't run, you crawl. And when you can't crawl, you find someone to carry you."-FireflyPeter can't run anymore. He can't even crawl. But is there someone out there who can carry him?A post-Endgame fix-it fic. A lot of angst, but a happy ending.





	Someone To Carry Me

There is a figure that walks around Queens every night, for hours. He walks without aim, going wherever his feet will take him. He continues on until he's completely exhausted.   
Peter has been doing this for a few weeks now. He started going out as Spider-man to ease May's worries. He pretended that everything was normal, for her sake.    
He had told her that his metabolism meant that he needs much less sleep, but in reality, he can't sleep without dreaming, not unless he's absolutely exhausted. Even then, he still dreams. Dreams of those moments right after the battle. Running to Tony, terror ripping through him as he heard his mentor's heartbeat weaken. Hand reaching out desperately as the suit closed over the injured man, carrying him away. Pepper following quickly behind, her face grim.   
Nobody had confirmed it officially, and he had told May he didn't want to talk about it. In his eyes, it was clear. Tony Stark was dead.   
He was sure Pepper had held a press conference, but watching the news was impossible for him. A single mention of anything that had happened  _ before  _ would send him into a horrible panic attack.    
And so he continues on. Pretending in front of May, Ned, everyone. Going to school every day, smiling, nodding, pushing through.   
But every night, he pulls on his suit, waves  goodbye to May and webs his way to the nearest alley. There, he takes off the suit with a slight shudder of relief. Mr. Stark made it, but he was right in taking it away. Peter can't  be Spider-man anymore. All it took was another death. Another person's blood on his hands.   
And so, he walks. Occasionally, he'll stumble into a mugging or a bunch of kids throwing stones at  a cat. He pulls his hood over his head, hiding his face, and smiles grimly before webbing them up.    
His favorite nights are the ones where he doesn't see another soul. He's alone with his sadness and anger, desperately searching for peace.    
Tonight, though, he meets someone and surprisingly, it doesn't bother him.    
He's walking through a park when he hears raised voices. He approaches quietly. If his late night walks have taught him anything, it's the art of staying unseen and unheard, of blending into the dark. He pushes his way through a few thick bushes. A thorn tugs at his face, a small spark of pain. It heals in mere seconds, gone before he can take the next step.   
The clearing is moonlit and surprisingly peaceful. A group of college students sit in loose circle. They're sharing several bottles and they're laughing and shouting at each other in between sips.   
"Hey, hey you!"   
Peter twitches with surprise at the overloud shout. The shock slows him down and he doesn't have time to run. A young man with a clean-cut, youthful face approaches him, a wide grin on his face.    
"Come on, man, we don't bite. Come and join us."   
Peter doesn't want to, but the students' enthusiasm is infectious. It captures him like a rushing wave and he is trapped, suspended in time. Watching the students, he is intrigued by the way their intoxication seems to unite them. In their numbed state, they seem so carefree. It's something he wishes he could find.   
And so, when a random girl hands him a bottle, half full of clear liquid, with the words "Here, you look like you need it", he takes it.    
He feels like he should care, but he can't.   
The first sip stings like liquid fire, burning it's way  into his stomach. It leaves behind a glowing warmth in his chest, warming him.   
The next sip is easier and a bit of a buzz starts to set in.    
A few more sips and he finds himself laughing along to the students' jokes. It's the first time he's truly laughed since...   
His thoughts are fleeting and he can't seem to hold on to them. Little things cease to have meaning and the world becomes a bit blurry.   
Time is meaningless, so he doesn't know how much has passed, but somehow, he's left the park. He manages to change into his suit, but his energy abandons him. With the last of his strength, he climbs to the roof of the nearest building and sits, feet hanging off the edge.    
Karen speaks suddenly, making him jump.   
"My apologies," she says, quieter this time, then continues. "Peter, my blood tests have shown that you are highly intoxicated, and due to protocol number 3159 "Spidey Sobriety", I cannot allow you to use any of your suits functions."    
Peter sighs and surrenders himself to the thought of walking home, but Karen's next words make his blood freeze in his veins and suddenly he's much more sober than he'd like.   
"Karen?" Peter asks, wincing at the roughness of his voice. "Could you repeat that please?"   
"Furthermore, this protocol requires me to inform Mr. Stark of your location and physical state." The AI's voice is flat and emotionless.   
Peter can't help the bitter, sarcastic laughter that explodes out of him.   
"Call him all you want, he's never going to answer." The anger rises in him like a wave of darkness, choking him.    
"Never again, do you understand?" He's half shouting now.   
"He's gone, Karen. He's dead."   
And then the tears come, the kind of sobs that you can't fight, the kind that make you double over, helpless. The kind that make you feel like you're dying.   
It takes a few minutes for the sobs to pass, and afterward he's exhausted.   
So he leans against an air conditioning unit and stares across the city. The light are blurred by the tears in his eyes.    
He's almost asleep when a familiar roar fills his ears and an Ironman suit lands on the roof beside him.    
_ Maybe it's a part of the protocol... _   
The suit picks him up and flies into the sky. He doesn't really know where he's being taken, but he can't capture enough thoughts to figure it out.    
His eyes drift closed as the cool air whips across his face and he knows no more.   
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------   
Peter awakens slowly. Ears first. He's definitely hungover, because his senses are hyper alert and...yep, he has a killer headache.   
He forces himself to probe outwards with his hearing, trying to figure out where he is.    
There's some sort of machinery close by, the low hum of a computer in the room. There are 3 heartbeats in the house, two upstairs, one downstairs. Further out, the sounds of the city are suspiciously absent. Instead of car horns and people, he can hear birds singing. Wind blowing through the leaves of trees. A quiet stream trickling down it's creek bed. It's oddly peaceful.   
Returning to himself, he learns that he's lying on a cool leather couch, covered in a blanket.    
Slowly, he opens his eyes, wary of bright light. The room is refreshingly dark, though, with the only light coming from a holographic display on the opposite side of the room.    
Someone is approaching, quiet footsteps and a heartbeat getting louder. Peter wonders who it could be.    
Then a door he hadn't noticed before is being quietly opened and a figure steps in. Peter struggles to make out the face. His headache is blinding him, filling his vision with sharp pain.   
The person steps forward, coming into the light of the window...   
And Peter can't breathe. Can't think. Can't comprehend except to hope that this isn't a dream.    
Because Tony Stark is standing in the middle of the room, looking painfully alive. A little worse for wear, but alive.   
And Peter realizes he's standing up, but his legs won't hold, his knees buckle and he crashes to the ground.    
He's clutching his chest now, painfully aware that he CAN'T BREATHE.   
The room is spinning and Peter is spinning with it. Darkness envelops him and he welcomes it with open arms.    
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------   
The heartbeat is the thing that really forces him to wake up. It's steady and soothing, with only the slightest double beat hinting of the owner's heart problems. It is, however, far too loud for Peter to make it background noise. It fills his senses and he opens his eyes. He can't help the whine that escapes him, only stopping when a calloused hand ceases it's motion through his hair and covers his eyes.    
Someone presses a pill into his closed hand.   
"Take this, it will help with the pain."   
A water glass is held to his lips. He swallows the pill, then gulps down the rest of the water gratefully. His mouth is so dry it feels like sand.   
As the medicine kicks in, Peter is finally able to think clearly. The memories from earlier flood back and he sits up straight, fresh panic flooding his system.    
He's sitting on the same couch he had been sleeping on, except the blanket and pillow had been cleared away. He had been pulled over Mr. Stark's lap, head cradled against the man's chest.    
But how was this possible?   
A hand is resting on his knee and he focuses on it, letting it ground him. He's still struggling to breathe, but Mr. Stark is over exaggerating deep breaths and Peter copies him.    
He's so confused and he needs to say something, but he ends up sobbing instead.    
"Oh, baby. It's okay. It's alright, let it all out."   
Mr. Stark's tone is so incredibly gentle that Peter sobs again, and then he's being pulled back into his mentor's arms.    
It takes a few long minutes for the sobs shaking Peter's body to cease completely. Mr. Stark doesn't push on him, he just rocks him gently, whispering meaningless phrases.    
When the tears finally cease, Peter leaves his face buried in Mr. Stark's chest. His cheeks are hot with shame.    
He doesn't get to hide forever. After a few breaths, the man cups Peter's chin is his hand and lifts gently, forcing the boy to meet his eyes.   
"What happened kiddo?"   
Peter's breath hitches, but he forces the words out.   
"After the battle. After you took off the gauntlet...your heart nearly stopped. I ran up to you, but I guess Friday had some sort of protocol to automatically get you medical attention. The suit  formed around you and...carried you away. And I went home. Except no one told me anything. I...I thought you were dead." Peter's voice had been losing volume the whole time and his last words were hardly a whisper.   
"Oh, kiddo" Mr. Stark's voice was equally soft.   
"And then no one mentioned it. I'm sure Pepper had a press conference, but I...I couldn't watch TV. Everyone was talking about the Snap and I kept having panic attacks. I want to know. What happened?"   
"Oh, Pete. I thought you knew. I'm so sorry baby. I'll be honest. It was touch and go for a while, but I pulled through. I woke up from a medically induced coma 4 days ago. I called May, but she said you didn't want to talk to me"   
"Oh god I'm..."   
"Shhhhh. Don't apologize. It's okay. We're here now."   
Peter nods silently, resting his head against his mentor's shoulder.   
They stay like that for a few minutes, until Mr. Stark clears his throat quietly.   
"Pete, you know I have to ask. I'm not going to be mad, I just need to know. What happened last night?"   
Peter shifts uncomfortably, but finally speaks.   
"After the battle, I couldn't sleep. Every night, I'd dream. About Thanos. About dying. But mostly about you. It was hell. And May was getting worried. I wasn't going out as Spider-man anymore and it scared her. So I pretended. And every night I walked for miles and miles. It was good in a way. It helped. May didn't worry, and I slept a little, at least. But last night, I met a bunch of random college kids. I don't really know what happened. I guess I just...they were so carefree. And in that moment, I desperately wanted that. I wanted to be just another kid. Not Spider-man. Not the kid that died on Titan. And..." Peter's voice breaks as fresh tears well up in his eyes. "....and definitely not the kid who had lost every dad he had ever loved."   
Tony's heart breaks at the kid's words. He looks down at this precious person in his arms and he wonders. How did he get this lucky? Peter and Morgan, they're him, but better. They are the future of the world.    
It's almost humbling, to look down at Peter and realize how  _ good _ the kid is. And somehow this pure, wonderful boy thinks of him, Tony Stark , as a father. It's insane.   
"I love you too, kid. Now let's go fix some breakfast. Morgan will be up soon and she'll be excited to meet her big brother. How do pancakes sound?"    
Peter's grin could outshine the sun and Tony feels his heart expand in his chest with pure love. He's got the kid back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this. Scream at me in the comments...


End file.
